andreassahar.com

The first nickname of my life still haunts me, though several decades—and many songs—later, I’m realizing it might be rather accurate.
To call a four-year-old a wimmerpot is pretty unprecedented. In fact, my grandmother made up the word. Roughly translated from German, her moniker for me was something along the lines of “stewing teapot,” a reference to the constant humming I did while playing with my Legos or train sets. At four years old, music was already brewing inside my head, escaping in bouts of sonorous steam while I fiddled with my toys.
Some people are impressed that my young musical genius warranted such a special invention—but I think Grandma Omi mostly just wanted peace and quiet. What she didn’t know was that the tuneful murmurs she heard were just a prelude to a lifetime of musical creation. Though technically my musical brain got branded a “teapot,” it’s probably more like a bubbling-over cauldron of sound that constantly teases me with new hooks and melodies.
Music is part of my lens to the world. Experiences are flavored by the sounds I hear at all hours of the day and I’m never able to truly disconnect from the rhythms and choruses that pop into my head. Music invades my life and I follow it in the hopes that my message of hope may enter others’.
Several years ago I realized that the story doesn’t end here. In fact, the naïve little wimmerpot who heard exotic tunes racing through his head soon grew up into a talented musician with no clear path. It was then that I realized that even as melodies appear in flashes in my head, a spiritual voice also opens from within my heart. It is my Christian faith that infuses my music with meaning. My vocation is to be a musician; my calling is to spread the Word.
I’ve been composing since I first earned my wimmerpot status and in the years since I have done what I can to give other people a sense of what I hear: I have mastered a collection of instruments and recording equipment, have commandeered large and small singing groups, and have toured and performed across the Americas. But mostly I listen. To the sounds around me—and the message in my heart. And I try to record my creations so that others may listen to their hearts, as well.
I suppose being a wimmerpot isn’t the worst thing for an artist to call himself. I percolate music. And I think you’ll like the brew.
I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes called the "LDS Church" or the "Mormon Church".

About Andreas Sahar

Albums by Andreas Sahar

Music is part of my lens to the world. Experiences are flavored by the sounds I hear at all hours of the day and I’m never able to truly disconnect from the rhythms and choruses that pop into my head. Music invades my life and I follow it in the hopes that my message of hope may enter others’.

Several years ago I realized that the story doesn’t end here. In fact, the naïve little wimmerpot who heard exotic tunes racing through his head soon grew up into a talented musician with no clear path. It was then that I realized that even as melodies appear in flashes in my head, a spiritual voice also opens from within my heart. It is my Christian faith that infuses my music with meaning. My vocation is to be a musician; my calling is to spread the Word.

I’ve been composing since I first earned my wimmerpot status and in the years since I have done what I can to give other people a sense of what I hear: I have mastered a collection of instruments and recording equipment, have commandeered large and small singing groups, and have toured and performed across the Americas. But mostly I listen. To the sounds around me—and the message in my heart. And I try to record my creations so that others may listen to their hearts, as well.

I suppose being a wimmerpot isn’t the worst thing for an artist to call himself. I percolate music. And I think you’ll like the brew.

I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, sometimes called the "LDS Church" or the "Mormon Church".

The first nickname of my life still haunts me, though several decades—and many songs—later, I’m realizing it might be rather accurate.

To call a four-year-old a wimmerpot is pretty unprecedented. In fact, my grandmother made up the word. Roughly translated from German, her moniker for me was something along the lines of “stewing teapot,” a reference to the constant humming I did while playing with my Legos or train sets. At four years old, music was already brewing inside my head, escaping in bouts of sonorous steam while I fiddled with my toys.

Some people are impressed that my young musical genius warranted such a special invention—but I think Grandma Omi mostly just wanted peace and quiet. What she didn’t know was that the tuneful murmurs she heard were just a prelude to a lifetime of musical creation. Though technically my musical brain got branded a “teapot,” it’s probably more like a bubbling-over cauldron of sound that constantly teases me with new hooks and melodies.